


You Sparked my Interest (and Warmed my Heart)

by theresalwaysaway



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fire Investigator AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 16:13:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11338884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theresalwaysaway/pseuds/theresalwaysaway
Summary: Fitz and Simmons meet while investigating the cause of a car fire.Written as the Angst entry for the Angst vs Fluff contest based on the prompt: "What makes you think this was an accident?"





	You Sparked my Interest (and Warmed my Heart)

When Fitz arrived at the scene, a dirt road in a rural section of the county, the late model four-door sedan was still warm. Another fire investigator was there already snapping pictures with her tablet. Fitz was familiar with the details of the case: The vehicle fire was reported last night and local firefighters were able to put out the flames before the entire car was engulfed, however the engine sustained heavy damage.

The very pretty female investigator approached him, “And it just accidentally set fire to itself, spontaneously combusting!”

Fitz, taken aback, replied, “What makes you think this was an accident?”

“I don’t. I was being sarcastic.” She looked at him quizzically.

“Oh.”

“I’m Jemma Simmons. I work for the county.” She offered her hand.

He shook it dutifully. “Leo Fitz, Just Fitz, though, I prefer, um, Fitz. I work insurance.” 

“Nice to meet you Mr. ...um... Fitz. Looks like we’ll be working together. The vehicle is still too hot to gather evidence today, though.”

“I’ll take some pictures today and I’ll come back tomorrow, too. But I work best alone.”

Jemma’s eyebrows rose. “Well, maybe I’ll see you tomorrow, anyway?”

Fitz had no reply.

Fitz ruminated on this short conversation for the rest of the day. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. She probably hates me. And thinks I hate her._ When his sister Daisy called later that evening, he picked up because she usually helped him feel better.

“How are you doing?” said Daisy.

“You know me. Miserable old coot.”

“I dispute the old part. But what happened this time? Blow up at your boss again?”

“I seem to have a talent for creating enemies instead of friends. Mucked it up again.”

“Who?”

“Fellow fire investigator. She mentioned how we’ll be working together and she was just being nice. But I said, and I quote, ‘I work best alone.’ Which I maintain is true, but I know how it must sound.”

“What did you have for dinner?”

“Haven’t eaten yet.”

“Fitz, you know how grumpy you get when you get hungry.”

“Or forced to make small talk.” 

“Don’t force me to come over there and make sure you get a proper dinner. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“I’m sure she didn’t think anything of it. That should make you feel better.”

“You’re probably right. Dinner will make me feel better, too. Hey, thanks for calling.”

* * *

The next day, Fitz saw Jemma at the site of the fire. He had been rehearsing a polite, civil greeting: _‘Good morning, Ms. Simmons.’_ He figured that should suffice. But on his way over to her, he noticed some ash on the ground, white, almost like snow. Also, some bigger fragments seemed charred. He called over to her, “Excuse me, Ms. Simmons, what do you make of this?” 

She came closer for a better look. “That’s not plastic or fabric, that’s paper. And please call me Jemma.” 

“Of course, if you like. We agree, then, that it’s paper. Here’s another one. Let’s see what we can find inside.”

They were unable to open the front doors, but the back doors, they could force open. More charred remains of paper were inside, even stuffed under the seats. Fitz asked, “Did you try the trunk?”

“No. I haven’t been here that long.” They used a crowbar to pry it open. What was revealed was a large stack of documents. “The papers here are hardly damaged. Computers, too. And cd-rom backups from the looks of it.”

While Fitz documented the interior of the trunk, Jemma speculated, “Whoever did this thought that if you throw a match on the engine, the whole car instantly explodes into a huge fireball and torches everything inside.”

Fitz replied with a pen cap in his mouth, “That’s only on TV and in the movies.” 

“He must have left before seeing if it burnt all his evidence.”

“You think it’s a he?”

“Could be a she.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“We definitely have to work together now,” Jemma pointed out.

Fitz, looking for a way to avoid answering, picked up one of the more complete papers and began reading. He recognized the company name as the employer of the owner of the car.

When Fitz didn’t answer, Jemma continued, “You and I, we have complementary goals. You want to prove your client was or was not at fault. And I want to find the truth and—” 

Fitz looked up at her suddenly and interrupted, “So do I—” He definitely had the deer-in-the-headlights look. But then he looked down, muttering, “—want the truth.”

“Well, I’m sorry you don’t enjoy working with me; clearly it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that. It’s…”

Jemma looked over his shoulder to see what Fitz was reading. “You might have to confront the owner if it turns out he had something to do with it.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his neck. Sure, confrontation (and maybe interaction with people in general) was definitely not his strong suit. Could he be any more nervous? She was so smart, understanding and helpful. And beautiful. 

“It’s a nasty part of the job. Facts can be unpleasant.” 

He might be able to talk to her as long as he doesn’t look at her. “I, uh, have a suggestion. We both gather evidence, here, now and then, um, independently draft a report. Then...”

“Yes?”

“Compare notes. Um, together?”

“That’s actually a really good idea. No conferring. Then we don’t influence the other and you don’t have to talk to me.” 

Fitz could tell she was teasing him and he blushed furiously. He tried not to snap at her, “It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you. I just—”

“You just want to let the evidence do the talking.”

He looked up at her without thinking, surprising even himself. “Yeah. It’s all right here, we just have to recreate what had to happen to get to this point. For instance, —”

“Mr. Fitz. Stop. Let me draw my own conclusions.”

“Right. And it’s just Fitz, it’s, uh, what I prefer. Sorry to be so...particular.”

“I’m sure being particular serves you well in this line of work. Fitz.”

“Thank you.”

They finished taking stock of the crime scene in silence.

* * *

A few days later they met to discuss the case in a conference room in the insurance building where Fitz works. Fitz had been both dreading it and looking forward to it at the same time. Since it was going to happen whether he liked it or not, Fitz decided to take the bull by the horns and just jumped right in. “Let’s just cut to the chase. What is your conclusion?”

Jemma replied confidently, “I’m sure your findings will verify mine. Mr. Samuel Jackson, working alone, stole his boss’s car and set it on fire hoping it would become an incinerator for records indicating that he was stealing from the company where he worked for your client, a Mr. Jeffrey O’Mara.”

“We agree. That the car was reported stolen usually indicates the owner is involved but why isn’t it in this case?”

She seemed to enjoy being quizzed. “Because Mr. O’Mara had a tracking device installed when he first bought the car which automatically began sending alerts upon being reported stolen. The police tracked it for awhile but then the signal was lost. If he was involved, I don’t think he would have risked the car being found before it could burn out.”

“The fire must have caused the tracker to malfunction.”

“That was my thought, as well. So why didn’t the fire spread, Mr. Fire Investigator?”

“My turn to be quizzed? Fair enough. Because the dolt knew nothing of car fires! He didn’t even bother to cut the fuel line, which is simple enough to do, if you know what you’re doing, which he clearly didn’t. The fire never got close enough to the fuel tank to melt and release additional gasoline into the mix.”

“No added accelerant was detected either, which usually points to an accidental fire. But the mountains of evidence make that idea seem pretty far fetched.” Their hands inadvertently touched while they both reached for the same pile of papers.

Up until then, Fitz was grateful that the meeting seemed to be going well. He was amazed at how effortless it was—far simpler than with any other fire investigator he’s worked with. However, merely grazing his fingers with hers caused him to become flustered. 

“We agree then, it seems, down to the last detail, Ms. Simmons, uh, I mean Jemma.” He had completely shut down, resulting in an awkward silence.

“It seems we do.” Jemma, changing the subject, asked, “What’s your background and why did you become an investigator?”

“Engineering,” he answers, recovering a little. “I know how things are made, machines, engines, structures. Somehow I can see the broken and visualize how it must have been. I don’t like seeing things destroyed, but I do enjoy helping people get back on their feet and getting their lives back to normal. What about you?”

“Me? I’m fascinated with the chemistry involved. After all, a fire is just a chemical reaction. Different fuels just mean it’s more complex and more of a challenge and I enjoy a good challenge. What I don’t enjoy is seeing victims get hurt, but there is a certain satisfaction when the perpetrators get their due.”

When the meeting was over, Fitz was just happy he survived without too much embarrassment. That and he couldn’t wait to see her again.

* * *

The next time Fitz talked with Daisy, he couldn’t help but gush about Jemma. 

“She sounds like a genuinely nice person. You should ask her out.”

“What? That’s not professional.”

“Wait until the case is finished then.”

Fitz groaned inwardly. “Thank you for your suggestion. It has been forwarded to the appropriate party for consideration.”

“Seriously, you should think about it.”

He did think about it. A lot.

Meanwhile, the investigation moved forward. As the court date approached, they both attended meetings preparing to testify as experts. It was slightly less awkward than before and Fitz thought maybe she was looking forward to these meetings as much as he was.

Eventually there was a trial, but once it started, it was over relatively quickly and they found themselves in the corridor outside the courtroom, their joint project completed.

“Justice was served, I think.” Jemma began.

“I wish dinner was served. Lunch was four hours ago.” Fitz wasn’t kidding. He was famished. He had spent most of the time in the courtroom imagining this moment and nervous energy burned a lot of calories. Nevertheless, he soldiered on. “Any plans? That is...do you have any? Plans? For dinner?” 

“Me? No. I mean, I try never to make plans during trials, because—you know how it is—never knowing how long they might last, or how it will go, or if you have to help plan some last minute testimony…”

“Maybe me and you...maybe we could eat somewhere, somewhere nice.”

“Oh. That sounds...nice.” 

As they began to head to the door and discuss different options, Fitz wondered what other superpowers this woman had. She had actually gotten him to come out of his shell which was really extraordinary. But best of all, even if nothing came of tonight, he knew he had a new friend. He hoped against hope that it was more than that.


End file.
